


Don't Wanna Let Go

by PersonyPepper



Series: Undeads [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Grief/Mourning, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Sad Ending, Valdo Marx loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Valdo Marx loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: A body with a still heart and staggering steps. A body without a soul. Jaskier had been so beautiful, but Geralt had been enamored by the cleverness of his brain, his sharp tongue and how filled with life he’d been. There’s an empty shell that walks behind him now, humming quietly to itself.Jaskier is turned but retains some of his personality. He's entirely nonviolent, following them like a little duckling. It breaks Geralt and Valdo.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/ Valdo Marx, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx
Series: Undeads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159238
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Don't Wanna Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Megeara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megeara/gifts).



Grief is light in Geralt’s chest. As if it’s somewhat disconnected, floating and flighty instead of sinking to the pit of his stomach. Roach huffs from beside him, flicking her tail in worry. He can’t feel the air of it brush against him. 

Jaskier’s song is haunting, and Geralt wants to cry. He wants to fall to his knees, the weight of it too much to hold— wants to let it crush him. The bard doesn’t sing. He’s no bard at all. Glazed-over eyes, blood shot and dull never focus. His footsteps are uneven, and Geralt just wants him to _look at him_. He just wants— he just wants.

Jaskier squats on the side of the road, his doublet ratty and his hair mussed. His skin rots; he doesn’t bleed from the bite mark on his neck. Geralt watches as he plucks a flower, eyes never focusing, and tucks it behind his ear. His mouth, torn from his lip to cheek and greening with death, never stops smiling. 

He’s quiet most of the time, footsteps and the scent of dying flesh the only thing giving him away. Geralt should stop calling him Jaskier. Should start using ‘it’ because _it’s_ only a body. A body with a still heart and staggering steps. A body without a soul. Jaskier had been so beautiful, but Geralt had been enamored by the cleverness of his brain, his sharp tongue and how filled with life he’d been. There’s an empty shell that walks behind him now, humming quietly to itself. 

He falls to his knees in front of Valdo. The troubadour looks worse for wear and world-weary but his eyes are filled with a warmth only humans can hold. Geralt begs, and Valdo kneels in front of his, one hand clasped over his mouth as tears stream over the back of his hand. Jaskier hisses beside them, unbothered of his leaning body and twisted leg as he snaps his jaw at the air.

Valdo’s paints smell acrid in the clearing of flowers. He paints, focused; his face betrays no emotion save for the tears that bubble in his eyes. Jaskier lays in the field, arms splayed as he hums, basks in the warm weather Geralt isn’t sure he feels. His voice is clear and Valdo paints him.

“We have to—” neither of them can say it. Nor can they pretend that they have any other choice. Jaskier’s fingers twitch as he lays on the ground beside them, skirting at the edge of their bedroll as if he can’t figure out how to find their warmth. The knot in Geralt’s throat tightens, and he finally cries. Lute-calloused fingertips trail down his arm and lithe fingers intertwine loosely with Geralt’s. His hands are so, so cold. 

They spend their last day together in silence, listening to Jaskier voice hum them a lullaby.

Jaskier’s fingers don’t loosen, even as he goes silent.

**Author's Note:**

> this bROKe me
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr :)](https://persony-pepper.tumblr.com)


End file.
